Live Wire
by xo cheshire
Summary: She embodied his element far better than he ever could.


**STANDARD DISCLAIMER APPLIES. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO INFRINGEMENT INTENDED.**

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Live Wire

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Cana Alberona was never in one place for a long period of time. Too permanent, too predictable; and Cana didn't do either.

Finding her then in some strange, far off bar at the edge of Magnolia where no one knew her name, where she could dress differently and no one would bat an eye, and where a girl like her would look out of place in a private booth with low lighting and cigar smoke curling in the air, wasn't a surprise.

At the table she sits at, made out almost in majority by men, she balances a fan of cards in one hand.

They had been humoring her for the past ten minutes, after all, what would it hurt to have a woman as beautiful and flippant as her joining them, letting her play with the big boys?

Her eyes shone with mischief, and her gestures were lighthearted; all in the name of getting them to lay their cards down. With an addition of allure by hiding something just beneath the surface of her flawless olive skin and long, dark rimmed eyes to entice someone to fold to her masquerade; they fall easily enough. They don't know her like he does after all. Her habit of finding a new haunt every day made it terribly difficult for anyone to recognize her especially so far away from the guild.

He remembered her the first time because when she gets close to her perceived end, her fingers twitch out of place, her eyebrow dares to form an arch and the corner of lips dip. There's a tremble of electricity in the air, and he couldn't forget her if he tried.

Less than thirty seconds later, she's cleaned them out.

"I'm impressed," she comments from behind him as she approaches.

"Took the words right out my mouth," he murmured as he raised his glass to touch the rim with his lip. Not acknowledging her further beyond that as she leaned her elbows against the cool, smooth, wooden counter before them. Her elbow just barely brushing against his forearm.

Signaling the bartender with a bare nod, she asked, "How do you keep finding me?"

Though he doesn't look her way, his brow raises for a fraction of a second. "And here I thought you knew everything."

"I know enough," she murmured, voice low and smoky, a spark at the tip of her tongue. Her ordered drink is placed precariously between them, and though their hands don't physically touch, their hair stands on end, and the electricity flickers restlessly. Pushing away from the bar as she took a slow sip of her drink, she turns away.

For a second, brief as it was he simply watches her.

Her skirt clings to the curves of her hips, deliciously so as she sends a loaded look over her shoulder. "Are you waiting for an invitation?"

He abandons his drink, throwing some notes down and dutifully follows. He tails her to the other end of the room – through a corridor, up a stairway and down another hallway. They're close enough to touch, but that doesn't mean they do.

Laxus knows she loves the build; the tension, the slow burn.

Every sultry look she sends his way from the corner of her eyes, every teasing almost-touch of her hand has the electricity crackling in his ears. Until the pull between them is too much and he takes one long stride, grabs her hip and presses her back against the nearest wall, his other leg coming between her legs to keep her in place in one fluid motion.

The current jumps from him to her and back again, the intensity growing as his palm brushes the skin of her thigh more than exposed in their compromising position, and there it is again: Sizzle. Spark. Spark. Spark.

Her brown eyes are like Baltic amber, her dark hair a halo about her head, and her lips – the closer they got the harder it is to resist, but then again, that was never his intention anyway.

He knows what lightning feels like at his fingertips, and she embodies it far more than he ever will.

Where he has learnt control and restraint in order to use his power with effectiveness, hers is simply passion personified. Where the electricity flows from him through her in a single touch as if she is the perfect conductor, before shooting it right back at him.

It is as if he's experiencing the power of having the raw energy of electricity in his hands, surging through his body for the first time, and it's liberating and frightening and addictive in a way only he who was born to use it knows.

Her teeth graze his lip as her arms come around his neck, pulling him closer and between them the electricity grows, ready to electrocute them if they aren't careful. Live wires are dangerous things, especially paired with a relentless power source that isn't willing to die.

The grip around her tightens, and she holds on with just as much force, allowing him to push her further into the wall as if to imprison her there.

And it's a new concept to her: to want to stay, to want to be consumed.

There's nothing about her actions that tells him to stop, her panting breath only spurs him on as he forges a path down the column of her neck, his hands cuffing her hips and raising her just enough that her legs wrap around him automatically, her whispered encouragements a broken mantra of, "more, more, more."

He isn't a fool. Anyone who plays with live wires is bound to get burned in the process.

But then again, he does play with lightning. He doesn't know better.

**A/n: **I wrote this at a horribly early hour...


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